Momnesia

Spiteful Sprite

Emerson has hit the terrible twos much faster than I imagined. This morning, she asked for Sprite. Then she asked for a cup. It seemed like such a simple thing...

Emerson (running to the fridge as fast as her little bowlegged self can go and patting the door): pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry? pry?

Me (following with eyes still closed from sleepiness and hair all crazy): Oh, you want Sprite, sweetie?

Emerson: (nods frantically, as though the need for Sprite is so great that whiplash is but a small concern)

Me (yawning): Okay, beautiful.

(I pull out the 2-liter of Sprite)

Emerson: ( begins pointing to the cabinet): cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup?
Me: No, shit, honey. Alright, I'm getting the cup. cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup? cup?

I pour the Sprite into a cup and hand it to her. She knocks it out of my hand with a wail and runs out of the room in despair. I have no idea what I did wrong. She runs back in, still wailing. I offer the cup again. She wails louder and runs out of the kitchen again. This continues until I give up, put the entire apparatus back in the fridge and just go pee.

This does not sit well with my little dictator. She screams outside the door until I finish my bidness and open it again. I look down at her tear-stained face, red with fury, as she gasps and sniffles. She looks back up at me with serious eyes full of hope and says: pry?

Grrrrr.